


crimson colored lotus

by sieges



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kimetsu no Yaiba, Angst, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Experimental Style, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Linear Narrative, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, Side Ship: IizuSaku, Side Ship: SunaOsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26909902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sieges/pseuds/sieges
Summary: There are some things that are worth more than one’s principles. This is something Kiyoomi doesn't understand until Atsumu turns into a demon.(Or: All the ways that Miya Atsumu changes Sakusa Kiyoomi’s life, beliefs, and sense of self.)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 34
Kudos: 174





	crimson colored lotus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitcassiachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcassiachan/gifts).



> 1\. I lied, Kit. (Clearly.) I wasn’t actually working on zine pieces, but this instead. This is for you, because you say I never gift you any fics, but also because you’re the one who tolerates all my self-indulgent rambling. (I think I unintentionally put many references in this fic that only you and I would understand . . . RIP.) This is also one of the AUs that was very, very far from my priority list, but I need to remember how to write action-packed stories or ones that are set in universes that aren’t modern, and this was the first AU in my to-write list I had in mind.  
> 2\. I mostly wrote this as one big excuse to put SunaOsa and IizuSaku backstories and that I didn't expect it to get this long (I blinked and it was already exceeding 10k), but this is a very self-indulgent piece I made to cope with the eternal pressure of college for the past five days. Dialogue is heavily influenced by all the anime I've been rewatching too, so please keep that in mind.  
> 3\. This fic involved a lot of experimenting on my part. There are numbers you'll be seeing at the start of all the relevant scenes labeled as [number], which tells the order of a scene even though I rearranged it by switching between present and past scenes. Technically, if you really want to read it in chronological order, I suggest using the CTRL+F function and typing [1], [2] and so forth. When writing this, I also didn't write it chronologically since I wrote all the scenes set in the present before writing all the scenes set in the past.  
> 4\. The world-building of KNY is heavily integrated into this story (kinda), so here are some basic terms to keep in mind:  
> — Hashira = the most powerful members of the Demon Slayer Corps, each possessing their own special Breathing Technique;  
> — tsuguko = second-in-commands and successors of the Hashira;  
> — kinoe = generally the highest rank in the Corps, but without the specialization labels that the other two previous positions have.  
> 5\. Title of the fic is a translation of KNY's iconic and badass opening song, Gurenge, which supposedly means red lotus.  
>  ~~6\. This fic punched me repeatedly in the gut during its creation. I hope you enjoy reading it.~~  
> 

**[05]**

Miya Atsumu’s first mission as a Hashira is in Itachiyama Forest, where many of their slayers have been disappearing left and right. It’s definitely demon activity because it rarely ever _isn’t_ , and since this phenomenon has been going on for the past few weeks, it likely isn’t something those of the lower ranks of the Corps can handle. 

In all honesty, despite attaining the highest rank of Hashira, Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn’t think Atsumu is fit for the job. The promotion is new and even though Atsumu is strong—he wouldn’t have gotten the position in the first place if it wasn’t—it doesn’t change the fact that dumping a job that might be more dangerous than _most_ dangerous missions are on someone who is still new with the responsibilities of his newfound rank isn't the smartest idea. 

There’s also the fact that Kiyoomi has a sinking feeling that this gig is different from the rest, not just a simple matter of rescuing what can be saved, slaying what shouldn’t, and mourning what wouldn’t. It’s a hunch, but Kiyoomi has been doing this for a long, long time, and he trusts his instincts. 

He tells as much to Kuroo Tetsurou, the youngest head of the Demon Slayer Corps to ever exist in the meeting hall, where they’re the only two people inside. Being able to see Kuroo without warning typically isn’t allowed, but Kiyoomi is an exception because he’s a Hashira himself and because Kuroo is a bit too lax with regards to the rules. Half of the Hashira have some issues with this mindset, and Kiyoomi is technically one of them, but there are instances where he can let it slide because it works in his favor. Atsumu had called him a slime-y bastard when he learned about it, and though Kiyoomi doesn’t exactly know what the term means, it’s probably something both equally endearing as it is insulting. 

In response, Kuroo says, “This is a good chance for him to prove himself worthy of being a Hashira.”

Kiyoomi sighs. “Did you not hear anything I just said?”

“I did,” Kuroo replies, leaning back. “Look, Kageyama was initially supposed to handle this mission until he took off the moment Tsukki mentioned something about some orange-haired kinoe squirt and hasn’t come back since. He probably knows him from somewhere.”

“Why did you let him go?”

Kuroo shrugs. “They say he can perform the Breath of the Sun.” He gives Kiyoomi a look. “You know, if you’re that worried about Miya going on this mission, then just go with him. I’ll allow it. There’s nothing wrong with an extra hand anyway.”

Kiyoomi’s mouth twists. “He’ll end up thinking that you don’t trust him to be able to handle it.”

“I never said that,” Kuroo says. “You did.”

Kiyoomi ends up accompanying Atsumu with him to Itachiyama Forest in Edo. Ironically enough, the one disgruntled about the entire situation isn’t Atsumu, but Kiyoomi instead. It’s easy to forget until he’s already doing it that he’s never liked having to do extra work, never liked the tedious traveling they’d have to do just to accomplish something he doesn’t find particularly rewarding, just something that needs to be done because no one else will do it. 

“Hey, this is kinda excitin’, Omi-kun,” Atsumu comments as they pass by the borders of the town beside Itachiyama Forest. The moon has always been up for a while, but nights like these tend to stretch longer than necessarily whenever they’re doing work, so the faster they get the job done, the better. Kiyoomi can’t help but feel slightly resentful of this, because as much as he likes efficiency, he’d been secretly hoping they’d at least be able to stop over and have something to drink before heading to the forest. “We haven’t been on a mission in years. It’s just like old times, y’know?”

They haven’t been on missions together since a year and a half ago because Kiyoomi's position as the Sound Hashira had gotten harder with the increase of demon activity. As much as he does miss getting to spend one-on-one time with Atsumu when he hasn’t really been able to for a while, he’d rather they have celebrated Atsumu's promotion to Wind Hashira in the quiet confines of either of their Estates instead of on a mission.

“Atsumu,” he replies. “We aren’t heading to a festival. We’re demon-slaying.”

“I know, I know.” Atsumu waves a hand just as they reach the outskirts of the forest. Kiyoomi stares at the towering trees pressed closed together, the darkness that lies beyond and the horrors the demons that lurk there have caused. “Don’t worry. We’ll finish this fast and then we can go to that tea shop ya were eyein’ on the way here. It’ll just be like our first date.”

Kiyoomi’s cheeks color at the mention of the tea shop and being caught red handed. He didn’t think he was being obvious, but Atsumu has always been more perceptive than most. “This is nothing like our first date,” Kiyoomi says to him, sounding more insulted than he’s supposed to be. “And you’re too nonchalant about this.”

Atsumu laughs. Despite his slight annoyance, Kiyoomi still finds it to be a nice sound. “Can’t believe that yer the one who has been doin’ this shit longer when yer so uptight all the time. We got this one in the bag, y’know. It’s the two of us, after all.”

Kiyoomi hums. “Remember the rule. Kill every demon there. No hesitation, no exceptions.”

“Got it, Omi-kun.” Atsumu’s mouth quirks up. Kiyoomi rolls his eyes at the teasing look on Atsumu’s face, but he allows him to tug at his bright haori so he can loop his arms with the other. When Atsumu presses a kiss to the side of his forehead, Kiyoomi’s blush from earlier can’t compare to the one he wears right now. 

Under the moonlight, the redness is obvious, but Atsumu smiles instead of laughing. It’s a gentle expression he doesn’t wear often. “Let’s go.” 

Atsumu walks into the forest without another word. Kiyoomi watches the boy he loves get swallowed by the darkness and thinks that the most striking thing about tonight might just be the fond look Atsumu had given him. 

(It doesn’t take long for Kiyoomi to take back his sentiments earlier when he’s kneeling on the ground, exhaustion weighing down on him. His arm is bleeding profusely, but there’s too much going on in his head to be able to gauge if it’s really that bad of a wound or not. He and Atsumu had severely underestimated the enemy, believing it had only been a single demon and not a group—which was already a surprise, considering that demons don’t _work together_ —led by an _Upper Moon_ nonetheless. 

Most of the corpses have already disintegrated, but some are taking longer than normal. Protocol is to ensure their disappearances for good by finishing the job as efficiently as possible, but Kiyoomi knows a dead demon when he sees one and he doesn’t care about his sloppy job at the moment. He has other things to worry about. 

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi calls to the unmoving body right beside him. Face down, Atsumu doesn’t stir. It’s terrifying, how this is the first time Kiyoomi has seen so much blood stained across Atsumu’s black haori and how the red just _stands_ out, bright and vivid against the dark fabric; the crimson extends to his blonde hair, tousled familiarly because Kiyoomi used to run his fingers through the strands to fix it and fail. “Fuck.”

He wants to scream at Atsumu and tell him to wake up. Instead, using his uninjured arm, Kiyoomi gingerly lifts Atsumu by the torso and drapes him over his back. Grateful for Bokuto’s relentless upper body strength training, Kiyoomi leaves Itachiyama Forest before the clean-up brigade shows up.) 

* * *

**[01]**

The first time Kiyoomi and Atsumu meet, Atsumu is sprawled on the ground and Kiyoomi is pressing the tip of his blade to the other’s throat. 

“Shit,” Atsumu manages to breathe, somehow still managing to sound relaxed despite the position he’s in. “Someone should’ve mentioned how damn jolty ya are. What, afraid of a little shoulder tap?”

Kiyoomi pulls the blade back, but only by a little. “You’re Miya Atsumu,” he states plainly. “The one who defended a demon despite being a slayer.”

“Ah, that why ya still got me pinned down?” Atsumu’s eyebrow is raised. He’s handsome, Kiyoomi’s mind absentmindedly supplies, the kind of handsome that Kiyoomi has only truly appreciated once in his life, right before this. “Afraid that I’ll pull somethin’? Bite ya like a little demon?”

Kiyoomi’s mouth twists at the words, any sort of vague appreciation he could ever have the other instantly disappearing. “Your jokes are tasteless.” He stands up, realizing that he’s wasting effort on Atsumu. Swiftly, Atsumu stands back, brushing off whatever dirt might have clung to his clothes from the fall. “Please don’t touch me like that. Or ever.”

Instead of looking surprised, Atsumu just cocks an eyebrow. “Guess the rumors were true, after all.” He doesn’t really need to provide context for Kiyoomi to understand what he’s referring to. Something small and barely tucked in Atsumu’s chest glistens under the sun. Kiyoomi leans back, avoiding the light from hurting his eyes. “So what’s with the no-touch thing of yers? Are ya clean conscious?”

“Shouldn’t everyone be?” Kiyoomi retorts listlessly. “I try to avoid dirtying my haori.”

Atsumu purses his lips as he eyes Kiyoomi’s garments. “I mean, it already looks pretty horrendous.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” It’s not like he doesn’t understand—bright green and yellow has always been a sight for sore eyes, even to him, but it’s less about the appearance and more about what’s behind it, and the reality is that Kiyoomi is more sentimental than he’d like to admit. He’s aware that Tsukasa would laugh his ass off if he ever knew this. “If you knew, then why did you touch me anyway?”

Atsumu shrugs. “Just wanted to make sure.” 

Of what, Kiyoomi doesn’t have the faintest clue. But he no longer feels invested enough in this conversation to keep it going, because he’s already peeved enough as it is. “What do you want, Miya?”

Atsumu scowls. “What’s with the attitude? All that ‘cause I tapped ya?”

“You defended a demon,” Kiyoomi points out. “You protected a demon, despite being a slayer.”

At this, Atsumu straightens. “That _‘demon’_ was my fuckin’ brother.” 

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” says Kiyoomi smoothly. “We kill demons. That’s what we’re here for. We don’t have the right to play god and decide who gets to live and die just because of who they once were to us. If we did, then what would make us any different from grieving civilians who only take up the sword for revenge? The code exists for a reason. We aren't supposed to be special.” 

Atsumu opens his mouth to make a retort, but in the end, nothing comes out, an unwanted acknowledgement that Kiyoomi has a point. Realizing that Atsumu doesn’t really want anything from him, Kiyoomi moves past him, putting an end to the conversation. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of a gold ring attached to a chain, dangling around Atsumu’s neck. 

“Yer cold, Omi-kun,” Atsumu calls out. Even without looking back, Kiyoomi can imagine the face he’d be making, evident enough from all the animosity in his tone. “Are ya one of those law followin’ freaks ‘round here? The ones born and raised to be slayers ‘cause of their families? They don’t know what it’s like to lose someone, y’know, people like ‘em—people like _you_. Wonder if you’d be spewin’ the same bullshit if the next day ya found out that the person most important to ya died.” 

“My answer wouldn’t change.”

“‘Cause yer heartless?” Atsumu sneers. 

Enough time has passed for Kiyoomi to no longer find it instinctual to grip onto any part of his haori for reassurance, for a reminder. Still, his hand twitches. “Because a person like that no longer exists,” he tells Atsumu. 

Without waiting for a reply, Kiyoomi leaves. 

* * *

**[06]**

Atsumu is not dead. Kiyoomi knows this because as he carried Atsumu away, he could still feel the other’s body heat and the light thrum of his heart beating. 

Kiyoomi isn’t exactly sure if Atsumu can be called alive either. 

They end up in an abandoned temple that Kiyoomi assumes was owned by one of the demons they had killed in Itachiyama Forest. Sitting by the steps, he smokes through the kiseru Atsumu had brought along with him on the mission right under the moonlight that gradually starts to lower itself as time ticks by. Soon enough it’ll be morning, and Kiyoomi knows that it’ll still be a few hours until the clean-up brigade will be gone. Their crows had been murdered during the fight, but it’s not exactly a big deal considering that they’re both Hashira, and the Corps trusts them enough to not do anything suspicious. 

Kiyoomi lowers the kiseru, mildly bewildered by the realization that the Corps’ trust in them is something he isn’t ashamed to take advantage of. 

Atsumu is inside, oddly unaffected by how the room reeks of blood and old flesh. He paces around restlessly and almost mindlessly. If they were in any other circumstance, Kiyoomi wouldn’t have pegged the behavior as out of character. Atsumu has never been the type to sit still, and he’s always liked exploring every inch of every new place he’d stay in to simultaneously familiarize himself and sate his curiosity, after all. 

Then again, in any other circumstance, Atsumu wouldn’t be a demon. 

Kiyoomi glances back. When their eyes meet, Atsumu comes to him, footsteps heavily padding across the creaky, wooden floor. He stops right behind Kiyoomi before nudging his head against the other’s back. When Kiyoomi lifts his hand, Atsumu immediately ducks under it to let Kiyoomi pet his hair. It’s wet but no longer bloody.

Atsumu is a demon. Kiyoomi knows this— _has_ known from the moment Atsumu opened his eyes as Kiyoomi was still finding someplace far away for them to both recuperate. He probably even knew before, right at that moment he made the decision to _not_ stay and wait for the Corps to come and deal with the aftermath of the fight, because he knew that if they saw Atsumu like this, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. 

_Atsumu_ hadn’t hesitated to try and kill him the moment he regained consciousness, his teeth growing sharp and his eyes becoming cat-like. He was injured from the fight earlier and using his new healing capabilities to fix his wounds, and Kiyoomi had heard the strange squelching sounds of Atsumu’s organs repairing itself, skin sewing back together to make it seem like nothing had even happened. Atsumu was expending energy that needed to be replenished in the form of human flesh, so he was hungry; it didn’t help that Kiyoomi was still bleeding, practically flaunting what Atsumu needed most right in front of him. 

It didn’t help, but it didn’t change the fact that though Kiyoomi hadn’t backed down, he couldn’t muster the intent to kill either. 

The thought eluded him, especially given his principles, especially when he was known for always following through with them. _Kill every demon there. No hesitation, no exceptions_ , he said. _We don’t have the right to play god and decide who gets to live and die just because of who they once were to us._

But as they were wrestling to the ground and Kiyoomi finally gained the upper hand against Atsumu and enhanced strength by pinning him down and twisting his hands behind his back to restrain him, Kiyoomi realized he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t draw the sword tucked by his waist and deliver a swift slice to Atsumu’s neck. He couldn’t even maintain the strong grip he had to keep him down, less because he was weaker than Atsumu when it came to raw power and more because he didn’t really want to. He couldn't kill him. He didn’t want to. 

“I’m a worse slayer than I thought,” Kiyoomi found himself saying, and he thought about something Atsumu had told him back when they first met. A promise, one that Kiyoomi thought he could honor, but realized now he couldn't actually keep. “Because taking you out is something I can’t do, Atsumu.”

It was asking for forgiveness, or making admitting defeat, but none of that mattered because it was like hearing his own name had some kind of effect on Atsumu. Suddenly, he stopped thrashing, trying to escape Kiyoomi’s hold. His eyes were still strange and there were angry veins visible all over his face, signs of his unbridled rage and hunger, but he had stopped growling and stopped looking at Kiyoomi like he was a piece of meat. 

Somehow, it was enough. Taking a risk, Kiyoomi let go, and Atsumu hadn’t taken advantage of the chance to attack. Instead, he turned around to Kiyoomi and clung onto him, digging his sharp nails onto his back and burying his nose into the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck, as if he was breathing in Kiyoomi’s scent even though the latter knew he smelled like sweat and dirt and blood. 

Atsumu hadn’t used the opportunity to bite him; he didn’t look like he wanted to, and just like that, he felt like the Atsumu he had always been.

Afterwards, they came across a temple. It was right beside a small pond, so Kiyoomi washed off the blood on the both of them. Atsumu’s clothes were filthy while only the arm portion of Kiyoomi’s uniform and haori had been torn, so he gave Atsumu his clothing so he wouldn’t be naked as Kiyoomi used the scrapes of his destroyed sleeve to wrap around his wound. As he washed, the lotuses by the edges of the water had wandered to his area and became stained by his blood, turning crimson but not yet wilting. 

If Atsumu could speak, he’d comment on how weirdly indifferent Kiyoomi is to the haori’s state when he was once so conscious about keeping it in pristine condition. Kiyoomi’s reply would’ve been that they weren’t exactly in a situation to care about the small things, no matter their meaning, or maybe he would’ve told Atsumu that it wasn’t like didn’t know that and it wasn’t like he was particularly _happy_ with what had become of the piece of clothing he took such good care of for years. 

But these were just imagined possibilities of a conversation that never actually happened. Atsumu was not speaking. Kiyoomi wasn’t in the mood to be reminded of why and how much of a hypocrite he had become and how he wasn't even that sorry about it. He wondered what Atsumu was doing to him even though he wasn't actually doing anything at all. 

Kiyoomi continued scrubbing. The last time he did something like this was the night he decided to become a slayer, trying to rinse the blood off the haori, a distinct garment that hadn’t belonged to him until that night, something he always saw draped over Tsukasa’s shoulders. Back then, Kiyoomi only knew what to do because there wasn’t anything else he could do. Anything worth returning to was gone, and when he was forced to look forward, there was only one road that lay ahead of him. 

It’s the same thing now, he thinks, as Atsumu curls by his side; a single pathway laid ahead of him because there’s no one else to go, because if he looked back, there would be nothing waiting for him there. For someone who cherishes sentimentality more than he’s allowed to, he’s never been given the privilege of staying still. Atsumu once said it was why they worked well together because he was the same. 

Except this time, even with something that pushes him to move forward, Kiyoomi doesn’t know what he’s going to do from here. All he knows is that he can't do what he was supposed to do, both as a slayer and someone who made a promise to Atsumu. 

At most, he hopes that tomorrow will grant him at least some sort of answer. 

* * *

**[02]**

Komori Motoya finds out about Kiyoomi’s run-in with Atsumu and scolds him for being too harsh. Kiyoomi simply says that’s how he always sounds, and that he’s not really saying anything objectively wrong when he’s merely rephrasing the moral code of the Corps. Motoya’s reply to that is, tone revealing more hidden exhaustion and softness for misplaced understanding than Kiyoomi accounted for, “You know that not everyone is like Iizuna-san.”

 _You didn’t even know him,_ Kiyoomi almost says, because he’s always thought it every time Motoya would say something like that, but not once has he actually pushed through with them. It’s not like Motoya is entirely wrong anyway. 

Kiyoomi is one of the few Corps members who practice the Breath of the Sound, so he stays in the Thunder Estate with Hoshiumi Kourai and Hirugami Sachirou. The current Thunder Hashira, Fukuro, Hirugami’s older brother, advises Kiyoomi every day that he should set up his own Estate soon every time his younger brother and tsuguko cause some kind of ruckus over mealtime. Kiyoomi simply tells Fukuro that he’ll think about it. He’s aware that Fukuro thinks the reason Kiyoomi isn’t keen on moving out is because he’s secretly afraid to be all alone, but the way Kiyoomi sees it, having his own place just seems impractical when Sound users like him are far and few in between and he’d be forced to take on extra responsibility by trying to discipline them. 

Kiyoomi _does_ value his silence though, so he doesn’t hesitate to slip out of the main house the moment he finishes breakfast, leaving Fukuro to deal with the other two as they continue eating. When he slides the door open to escape, he’s greeted with the sight of the Fox Hashira. 

“Sakusa-san,” Suna Rintarou greets, voice low. “Just the person I hoped to see this morning.”

Kiyoomi blinks. “As opposed to the others?”

“Hirugami-san does seem to be preoccupied with his members at the moment,” Suna inputs, peering over Kiyoomi to see whatever is happening inside. Kiyoomi slides the door shut behind him, but Suna doesn’t seem to mind that his view had been blocked. “I’m here because of Atsumu.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t exactly feel surprised. “Okay.” He steps past Suna with ease. “What about him?”

They had both become Hashira at the same time, but it didn’t make them close. The only time Kiyoomi has ever seen Suna was in meetings. Kiyoomi generally likes to stay informed, but there’s nothing really useful to know about Suna. Wakatoshi commented that Suna was probably one of the laziest Hashira in their generation, which made his capabilities all the more unique, but that was the moment Kiyoomi immediately lost any interest in the Fox Hashira. 

“I’m sorry he was a dick to you,” Suna says, catching up to him with long but casual strides. For a split second, Kiyoomi doesn’t know where he’s going because he hadn’t planned on actually _leaving_ the Estate, but he figures he could see Motoya because Fukuro mentioned needing to resupply the contents of their emergency first aid kit. 

“It’s not your job to apologize on his behalf.”

Suna shrugs. “He’s actually a nice guy. Feels unfair that people end up having the wrong impression on him just because he’s been getting on people’s nerves a lot lately.” His eyes flicker to the sky, a dim blue that grows brighter as the minutes tick by. The air is chilly, and Kiyoomi subtly brings his haori closer to him to at least maintain some warmth. “It’s because his brother died recently. That’s why he’s so pissy. It's only been a month.” 

Kiyoomi pauses. “I don’t understand why you care so much about defending him.”

“Like I said,” Suna simply replies. Kiyoomi doesn't understand Suna’s relationship to Atsumu. Everything about him is strange—a nonchalant tone, a lax posture, straightforward words, little gestures that make it seem like the issue doesn’t really matter to him and he’s only saying it because someone asked him to and he’s mildly exasperated with it all. It doesn’t make much sense to Kiyoomi, not when there’s this nagging feeling in him that Suna and Atsumu have some kind of relevant connection no one simply speaks about. The only thing Kiyoomi truly does know about them is from the information on the official report regarding the incident, explaining that they were both on the mission together. 

Kiyoomi appraises him for a few seconds before saying, “Do you only care because of guilt?” 

Because he remembers what the mission report had said. The twins—Atsumu and Osamu, both kinoe, the highest rank in the Corps besides tsuguko and Hashira—were on a mission in Inari Hill when they encountered a Lower Moon who had been lording over the place. In the fight, Osamu turned into a demon. Atsumu would’ve died if not for the fact that Suna came right on time to save him, effectively eliminating all the demons within the premises. 

It’s not like guilt is a foreign concept to Kiyoomi. But his guilt is age-old and the only reason he doesn’t cling onto it during the sparse moments he chooses to look back on his past is because it doesn’t change anything. How could it, when anyone who could be affected by it were already dead?

Suna doesn’t answer him immediately. When the early morning wind blows past them, he flexes his fingers like it’s an impulsive reaction to the sensation. The gesture catches Kiyoomi’s eye simply because of the sight of something bright and small and familiar on his hand: a ring of gold. 

“You and Atsumu are together.” It’s not really a question because it seems like the most logical conclusion there is. Suna glances at him. “You have the same ring as he does around his neck.”

“Ah.” Suna's gaze turns to his hand, and for once, the droopy, indifferent look in his eyes is gone in lieu of something that seems thoughtful. Wistful. “That ring he has is— _was_ Osamu’s.”

In that moment, the wind goes quiet. Kiyoomi looks at the ring once more. He doesn’t know much about jewelry and minerals, knows even less about personal customs and beliefs outside of the laws that the Corps create for the wellbeing of the world and humanity, but— “Lovers’ rings.”

“Promise rings. But same difference, I suppose,” Suna considers offhandedly. His gaze is far away, but it’s not the kind of look that tells Kiyoomi if Suna is thinking about the mundanity of the day or reliving a memory. For some reason, Kiyoomi can try and picture it for him—the blood stained on Suna’s sword all the way to his hands as he tore through Atsumu’s defenses to kill the newly turned demon right behind him. A month ago, the snow was still on its way to vanishing from the air and melting from the ground. Kiyoomi thinks about how cold and damp and sorrowful everything must have been. 

Atsumu is notorious around the Corps for defending his brother-turned-demon. No one talks about Suna’s involvement, either due to respect for his status or because they truly don’t know. Kiyoomi wonders if it would change things if people acknowledged the full story, before it occurs to him that it doesn’t matter, because it would still remain to be a tragedy regardless. 

“I don’t know what Atsumu's holding onto, honestly,” Suna continues. “And why he chooses to keep that, of all things. But it reminds me of how much of a mess he is, so.” He side glances at Kiyoomi, “I’d like people to cut him some slack if they could.”

It should mean that Suna’s done this before—approach others who’ve gotten on the wrong foot with Atsumu to try to explain things—but Kiyoomi doubts it. The detachment in Suna’s tone, almost as if he doesn’t understand where Atsumu’s attitude is coming from, would be unnerving if not for the fact that Kiyoomi knows people deal with grief differently, if not for the fact that Kiyoomi knows that maybe this is just the kind of person Suna is. 

Seemingly finished with all he has and wants to say, Suna turns around. “Thanks for your time, Sound Hashira,” he says, beginning to walk away. Just then, he stops, as if remembering something. “It’s a good day today.”

The sky is a beautiful blue right now, the sun up but not overbearing enough to overwhelm them with its heat. The air has settled into the right kind of chilly, the seasons still making its transition from winter to spring. “It is.”

Suna twists his head and looks to the sky. “Days like these,” he begins, “Always remind me why it’s not so bad to be alive.” 

There are too many allusions to that statement for Kiyoomi to try and decipher. By the time he even thinks to try, Suna is already gone. Something in Kiyoomi tells him that he won’t be seeing him anytime soon. 

Later that afternoon, Atsumu finds Kiyoomi in the training grounds and says, “I knew ya were just sayin’ the truth.”

The bamboo thicket that surrounds them makes it easy to sneak up on others. Kiyoomi likes it here partially because it grants him solitude and mostly because the bamboos are reminiscent of Tsukasa’s garden, where they stood tall and proud against the walls. Maintaining them was always a pain, Kiyoomi remembers. 

Despite not expecting Atsumu’s presence, Kiyoomi’s surprise doesn’t let his surprise show, nor he doesn’t waver as he continues to practice swinging his sword. Atsumu leans on one of the bamboos, watching him train from the sidelines. 

“I just didn’t like the way ya said it,” continues Atsumu. “Sunarin says I’ve been gettin’ overly sensitive though, so it could be that. I’ll try to fix it, but just—” He waves his hand vaguely, like he doesn’t know what else to do. “I just thought ya should know. Count this as some sorta apology from me, I guess.”

A few minutes later, Kiyoomi says, “It’s alright.” Then he adds, “I’m not changing my mind though.” 

“‘Course ya won’t.”

It’s not some kind of bitter accusation. In fact, there’s something almost soft in Atsumu’s tone, like he’s not shocked by Kiyoomi’s answer and it’s not something that bothers him.

“I don’t want to lie or make exceptions just because I feel bad,” Kiyoomi reasons, even if Atsumu isn’t asking for justification. “Because I don’t think any good comes from insisting that things are different when they never have before. The concept of being special, I don’t believe it.”

“I figured, based on yer little speech,” Atsumu says. “‘Samu—he was my brother, but he was a demon too. I knew there was no savin’ him, even though I still wanted to. He wasn’t human, and I think that changes everythin’.” He pauses for a moment. “My parents were obsessed with all the demon stuff and their powers. So they killed random travelers in our town, kept their corpses, and tried eatin’ ‘em just to see if they’ll become demons themselves or at least get the same abilities. Didn’t happen, obviously, but actual demons noticed the amount of dead bodies piling up and came to our neighborhood. My parents hid the bodies with the grandma of someone ‘Samu and I grew up with—his name was Kita-san—without ‘em knowin’, and the demons took 'em both before killin’ my parents.” 

It’s a gruesome story, and Kiyoomi doesn’t understand why Atsumu is telling all this in the first place. Still, he doesn’t do anything to stop him, and lets him continue. 

Atsumu lets out a sigh. “My parents were human and they were doin’ that, but ‘Samu was a demon, and he’d actually have to do it to live if he _did_ live, and I’d hate that. He’d hate that too. We weren’t ‘bout to become just like our parents. So I get that it was better that way. It’s one thing to take the life of another human, but to actually consume ‘em—I think that’s when ya truly lose the essence of what makes someone human.” Kiyoomi watches Atsumu collect his thoughts. “Don’t feel bad for me though,” Atsumu eventually adds. “I know I just dumped my life story onto ya even though ya didn’t ask, but I didn’t do it for sympathy or understandin’ or somethin’. I don’t wanna hear it. It just,” He shrugs, turning his gaze away. His posture is awkward, like he’s suddenly embarrassed at the realization that he told Kiyoomi everything. “Just felt right to say.”

Kiyoomi blinks. He understands why Atsumu feels that way, but it feels unnecessary. “I don’t feel bad for you.”

The reply seems to catch Atsumu off guard. “Ya don’t?”

Kiyoomi shrugs. Strangers feeling bad and saying things like _sorry_ have always been the last things he’d ever want to hear. He doesn’t see the point in people trying to sympathize when he feels like it just reduces him to a pitiful, powerless thing, and he doesn’t see the point in apologies even more, as if they need Kiyoomi’s forgiveness when it’s not about them in the first place. It should be the same for Atsumu, hearing his past, hearing the conviction in his tone that prevails his conflict. “People deserve better than pity.”

Atsumu is quiet, considering his words. “Yeah,” He agrees. “Yer right. Even if ya sound like such an ass when ya talk.”

 _Not everyone is like Iizuna-san._ Motoya told him. He’s right. Not everyone is like Tsukasa, patient enough to take Kiyoomi’s blunt attitude in stride, wise enough to read in between the lines and see that there’s no true bite in Kiyoomi’s words or ill intentions, and no one could _ever_ be, because he isn’t here anymore. “I’ll work on fixing that,” Kiyoomi tells him, trying not to feel awkward because he realizes that there’s more sincerity in his tone than he anticipated. “The way I say things.” 

“Guess that makes the two of us.” Atsumu tucks his hands into the sleeves of his kimono. Kiyoomi feels just as strange, and suddenly swinging his sword in different forms and postures feels redundant with someone else watching. Still, the situation doesn’t feel completely appealing, because with Atsumu’s words come the realization that they’re both just a little imperfect like this. “Hey, Omi-kun.”

“What?”

“Might be a strange request since we just met, but I already told ya all that, and I don’t wanna shove all the burden onto Sunarin when he’s already carryin’ a lot,” Atsumu begins, tone hard. “But if I turn into a demon, do ya promise to kill me? I mean, I already know ya would, but I’d still wanna hear it. I don’t wanna lose what makes me human.” 

For a minute or two, they’re enveloped in silence. Kiyoomi wonders if all these thoughts have been building up inside of Atsumu for so long until this very moment, where something just snapped and they just came spilling out.

“It’s too good of a day to talk about things like that,” Kiyoomi replies, because what comes to mind upon hearing Atsumu’s words are Suna’s, for some reason. _Days like these always remind me why it’s not so bad to be alive._ “But I will.” 

The stiff expression on Atsumu’s face fades, turning relaxed and reassured. “Thanks.”

The look in his eyes as he meets Kiyoomi’s gaze is gentle. It makes Kiyoomi want to do something, but as for what, he isn’t completely sure yet. “Miya,” Kiyoomi starts, “Do you want to spar?”

The way Atsumu’s eyes light up at the suggestion reminds Kiyoomi that Atsumu is a handsome man. Familiar in a way that would make him wistful, but something that he realizes could one day simply be charming. 

“Call me Atsumu,” he replies. 

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi repeats. The way Atsumu smiles at him when he says his name is familiar. When the wind blows, Kiyoomi’s haori flutters. It’s a good day today. “Let’s go.”

* * *

**[07]**

Kiyoomi doesn’t come to an answer the next day. Not a long-term one anyway. It’s late afternoon when he wakes up, slumped across the temple’s doorway, having never left the spot he spent the night smoking and staring at the moon. Motoya would call that ruminating.

Atsumu is no longer beside him. 

When Kiyoomi turns, he can see a large lump on the other side of the temple, far enough where no light has any chance of creeping inside. It’s Atsumu, curled in a ball and sleeping soundly. Kiyoomi walks over to him and crouches down. Atsumu would usually sleep with all his limbs sprawled out, trying to occupy as much space as possible like he wanted people to know he was bigger than life itself. The fetal-like position he has now is jarring and unfamiliar. Kiyoomi brushes a loose strand of hair away from Atsumu’s face. His features look a lot younger too, taking on the appearance of who he once was before Kiyoomi had even met him. 

That’s jarring as well, but Kiyoomi can’t dwell on it any longer. He needs to think of a way to get them out of here, because even though the clean-up brigade has likely left, some of the slayers might still be lurking around to ensure that no other demons involved in the Itachiyama Forest incident had escaped. It isn’t like Kiyoomi and Atsumu could tell them otherwise, after all. 

It’s summer season, so their clothes dry up overnight. Atsumu’s had been filthier than Kiyoomi’s, but for some reason, none of it was in tatters, something Kiyoomi thinks is a special skill inherent in Atsumu, the capability to always keep things in good conditions. It’s ironic, considering that Kiyoomi has always been the one who cared a lot more about those things. As the sun rises, Kiyoomi slips on Atsumu’s haori, now clean and dry, to hide the injury on his arm and not attract any attention. 

He ventures downtown and keeps the trip as short as he can because leaving Atsumu alone when he’s now a demon unsettles him. Kiyoomi procures new clothes from a store, food from the market, and a few other miscellaneous things from other shops that he stops by. On the way back, he passes some farmers and asks for the large basket and straw they have just uselessly lying around beside their house. They let him be and don’t ask questions when he offers to pay them. The townspeople are nice, Kiyoomi thinks, and aren’t that interested in getting to know him besides complimenting his handsome appearance. The lack of interest in gossip and the tranquility of the town makes Kiyoomi wish he could stay longer and enjoy it, but he doesn’t. 

It’s evening by the time he returns to the temple, tired from the events of the day but somehow regaining energy he thought he lost the moment he spots Atsumu. The latter is already wide awake, and he doesn’t seem to have thought to leave the premises. He still looks young, less like a man in his mid-twenties and more like the teenager Kiyoomi never met, but Kiyoomi supposes that it might be part of his demon ability; what gave Atsumu the edge over him during their scuffle the night before was his newly enhanced strength, so it makes sense for him to be able to alter his physique as a whole to the point of taking on a younger or older form.

It’s strange, but it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s bad, because at least this way he’ll fit into the basket that Kiyoomi had brought back. 

The material is surprisingly stable and doesn’t cave under Atsumu’s weight when Kiyoomi tries to carry him on his back using straps made of thick straw. Atsumu doesn’t seem to like to be inside at the moment though, too wide awake, so Kiyoomi lets him do what he wants after giving him new clothes to wear. Kiyoomi sits by the steps of the temple once more to sew the fabric of his haori onto the basket for a flap in order to use it as a shield Atsumu from the sun and curious eyes. The basket’s purpose is to hide him from daylight and let them travel freely, after all. 

There’s no sense of loss that settles in Kiyoomi as he tears the fabric to repurpose it; no sense of disappointment that Kiyoomi thinks Tsukasa might have in him for throwing away something that reminded Kiyoomi so vividly of his existence. Kiyoomi doesn’t know if it means he’s finally let go, but maybe it’s only because his hands have more important things to preoccupy themselves with, more important things to hold than the remembrance of someone no longer there. 

Regardless, he looks to the sky and says, “I’m sorry, Tsukasa-san,” as if somewhere, out there, Tsukasa is still there to hear him. There’s no reply, and Kiyoomi can’t try to picture what Tsukasa would say, because he’s been dead for almost ten years. 

They spend the first few months in a nomadic state, traveling from town to town in search for a space safe enough from other demons and slayers all while trying to gather information from different kinds of people who know a thing or two about months and if they can be cured. Because of this, Kiyoomi learns more about the world in less than a year than he knew for most of his life. 

He makes a living by running odd jobs to pay for food and inns. During the day, people would ask why his basket seems so heavy and why he never lets it go, and all Kiyoomi says is that it’s because it contains the precious belongings of a long lost lover. He’s never been the type to lie, so he doesn’t think that he actually does a good job of it, but no one questions it. 

Sometimes, they’ll ask if he’s lonely. Kiyoomi thinks that it’s impossible for him to be when every night Atsumu wakes up and eases any sort of worries Kiyoomi may have simply by being there. 

It’s not that different from before, when Kiyoomi frames it like that, and even though it’s shallow reassurance, it helps. Just a bit. 

As time passes, Atsumu spends more and more of it asleep. Kiyoomi goes through weeks without ever seeing Atsumu’s eyes. Those times are the longest and hardest, but Atsumu always comes to eventually and his hunger for human flesh decreases. 

Kiyoomi avoids running into situations wherein he needs to draw his sword once more, unable to shake off the knowledge of his hypocrisy and guilt because it hadn’t felt that long ago when he told Atsumu that they had no right to decide which demon gets to live or die just because of who they were to them. Kiyoomi knows he was one of the few in the Corps to remain steadfast in those beliefs, but in the end, he wavered.

That knowledge is alone is why there will be times when he imagines saving a civilian from a demon attack only to find out that the demon had to be their family member. Every time, the civilian would turn to him in the aftermath, look at the basket like he knows there’s a demon in there, and demand, _“What makes you different?”_

Kiyoomi wouldn’t have an answer to that because the fact is that he _isn’t_. That he’s just a bad person and can’t muster enough morality to be ashamed of it. He thinks about Suna and what he did and doesn’t know if what Suna had was strength to do what none could do or acceptance that there was nothing anyone could do. 

All Kiyoomi really does know is that he’s neither of those things. All Kiyoomi knows is that he’s either changed from before, or the world has changed instead, and ultimately, it doesn’t actually change _anything_. 

But is what makes him feel like he's truly hit rock bottom: those few instances where he can’t _not_ do anything when he runs into a demon, because no amount of guilt that gnaws at him for his own hypocrisy could outweigh the guilt of purposely choosing not to save a life. In those moments, he thinks he’s been reduced to the scum of the earth, not because of the way he contradicts himself but because for a fleeting second, he’ll stare at the bodies of the victims he hadn’t been fast enough to save and wonder if he could take a piece to feed Atsumu. 

It’s a thought he always retracts, because if Atsumu were to ever turn back into a human, he’d never forgive Kiyoomi nor himself for doing it. _It’s one thing to take the life of another_ _human_ , Kiyoomi remembers Atsumu said. _But to actually consume ‘em—I think that’s when ya truly lose the essence of what makes someone human._

It’s an immoral consideration anyway, one that makes Kiyoomi disgusted with himself. Even more so when he realizes that at this point, he’s desperate enough to not care about anything else so long as Atsumu survives. 

Later on, Kiyoomi realizes that it doesn’t matter. One night, on the way to leaving down, Kiyoomi is forced to deal with a demon that could probably rival the strength of a Lower Moon in a decade’s time. He grits his teeth when he realizes that the two girls are already dead and partially eaten, but he can at least make sure that their bodies are more or less intact for a proper burial. 

He still knows his strength, but his skills are rusty from a lack of practice and a lack of practice from needing to exert too much effort when he’s only dealt with demons that could easily be taken care of in one or two strikes. It doesn’t help that the one he’s fighting at the moment has the uncanny ability to multiply himself, but at the last second, Atsumu bursts from the basket even though Kiyoomi always instructed him to never do it under any circumstance, and rips the demon’s head cleanly off his body in less than second with his sharpened nails and enhanced strength. 

The head falls to the ground in a thud and it disintegrates along with the body. Kiyoomi doesn’t care about that, more concerned with how Atsumu stands in front of the two fresh corpses, guts spilling open and blood leaking onto the ground. 

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi starts, noticing his wide-eyed stare directed at the girls. 

When Atsumu turns to him, his eyes aren’t feral like they normally are when he’s in an aggravated or aggressive state. His mouth is twisted down in a frown instead of dripping with saliva. Kiyoomi is caught off guard by the humanity so clear in all of Atsumu, even if the way he sits down and pulls his knees to his chest to make a whiney, upset sound is more akin to a sad puppy than anything human-like. 

Kiyoomi crouches down by Atsumu’s side and pulls him against his chest, feeling overwhelmed by his own thoughts. “I hate you,” he whispers into his hair. Atsumu stopped seeing the need to style it—it wasn't like he couldn't anyway, not in this state—so Kiyoomi did it for him. He used to say that the reason he liked it so much was because it reminded him of Tsukasa, but the truth is, he hasn’t looked at Atsumu and seen someone else in a long time. He doesn’t think that’ll ever change. “I hate you.” Kiyoomi repeats. “I love you.” 

Atsumu doesn’t reply. Instead, he pulls back a bit to reach for the corpses, though all he can end up doing is making nonsensical hand gestures, like there are things he wants to do and things he wants to say but is incapable of doing to, his brain unable to completely comprehend them enough to put him into action.

“I know,” Kiyoomi says, reluctantly pulling away to stand up. He takes Atsumu’s hand. He wishes Atsumu would say something, but he knows that he can’t. _Omi-kun_ , Atsumu would say, repeating it over and over like a plea. Kiyoomi doesn't know how many times he can replay Atsumu's voice over and over again until he forgets what it truly sounds like. “We should bury them.”

* * *

**[03]**

When Kiyoomi opens his eyes, he’s no longer sprawled on the dirty pavement and staring at the dark sky, knocked down from a last-minute surprise attack that was so strong it felt like he broke a bone and nearly drowned in a pool of blood. Instead, he’s greeted with the sight of the ceiling of a dark room and soft sheets underneath him. 

“Wasn’t aware ya were such a drama queen,” someone familiar quips from the side, and Kiyoomi wonders if he said anything aloud the moment he woke up. 

Kiyoomi turns his head as someone sits by the edge of the futon. “Atsumu,” he says, before wincing. 

Atsumu clicks his tongue. “Ya shouldn’t move ‘round so much when yer injured,” he reprimands him, and he presses something warm to the side of Kiyoomi’s head. Kiyoomi sits up anyway. Atsumu lets out a huff. “Ya hit yer head pretty badly in the fall. When ya didn’t move, I actually thought I got there too late.”

“I think this is supposed to be cold,” Kiyoomi interjects, but his hand reaches up to hold the compress anyway. 

“I know, but warm shit always just feels better, y’know? ‘Sides, the worst of yer injuries, I already patched up.”

Something inside Kiyoomi shifts and pulls uncomfortably, so he glances down, noticing the bandages wrapped around his entire torso underneath the inn’s standard kimono for guests. It takes him a moment to remember how he got injured there: a swift punch at the side of his stomach from the demon, hard enough to make him cough blood and for his skin to be pierced. Kiyoomi had managed to slice the demon’s head off at the same time, but the damage had been done, and he fell unconscious before he could leave to find safety. 

“Why are you here?” he questions. “Backup?”

“Heard ya were ‘round the area,” Atsumu explains. Kiyoomi’s eyes wander, searching for his hoari. He finds it at the foot of the futon, neatly folded and still in good condition. Kiyoomi is well-aware that one day, his luck with keeping it in perfect shape will run out, but at least Atsumu took good care of it, so Kiyoomi can't get worked up over someone touching it like he normally does. “I just finished a mission and found out that ya were on my route back. It’s been a while since we last saw each other.”

“We saw each other last week.”

“I know. Don’t ya miss me already?”

They see each other at least thrice every month, which is already more times than Kiyoomi sees Motoya, who he usually runs into just because he works at the Flower Estate, so he has to admit that a prolonged period of time without seeing or hearing from Atsumu unsettles him a little. It’s a strange sensation to have when he reminds himself that he’s only known Atsumu for a few months. Most of the time, their interactions are fleeting, running into each other when they're on errands within the main headquarters, light banter that they'll exchange that Motoya will later remark seems more like flirting. Sometimes, they'll spar. Once, they went on a mission together. 

Kiyoomi can tell the passage of time and how long and often they’ve been spending it together less because of these things and more because of how he doesn’t bat away Atsumu’s touch. It’s never really been that he’s touch-averse anyway; he just happens to be conscious of people touching him when he wears his haori because he doesn’t want it to get ruined. Around Atsumu though, he minds it less and less, because Atsumu will handle the garment with care, like he somehow understands that it means something to Kiyoomi even though he’s never said why. 

“Not your attitude, no.”

Atsumu grins. The moonlight slips through the window and illuminates his features. Kiyoomi can’t help but notice the bright look in Atsumu’s eyes. 

“Did something happen?” he asks. 

“What makes ya think somethin’ happened?”

“You look happy.”

“Hm.” Atsumu doesn’t answer. Kiyoomi waits, but all Atsumu says is, “How injured are ya?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one who knows that?”

Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Do ya think yer injuries are bad enough that ya havta stay here? I'm thinkin' 'bout goin' out. Heard there's a festival happenin' 'round town tonight, but I don't wanna leave ya here."

"I'm not an invalid," Kitoomi points out. "I'm stronger than you."

"Not for long," Atsumu says, and Kiyoomi almost asks if that's a challenge. That's usually what starts their spars. Atsumu will declare that he'll catch up to Kiyoomi and not just become a Hashira, but one even stronger than him—that he'll become the strongest one there is. "And yer injured."

"I know," Kiyoomi says, and then he nudges Atsumu off the futon as he reaches for his haori. He always feels strange when he doesn’t get to wear it. "Where to?"

It's almost midnight when they make their way downtown, changed into more appropriate garments. Kiyoomi is surprised to see that the streets are still alive despite the late hour. There are food stalls and game boots, music playing in the background to set the festive tone, and the chatter amidst the crowds is lively. Atsumu looks excited to immerse himself in all that life, but there's a sharp twinge of pain to Kiyoomi's side, and he doesn't feel confident in his ability to maneuver around all the cramped space without risking worsening his injury.

"Sorry," he later apologizes, because they end up standing over an incline right by the outskirts of the festival and Atsumu refuses to leave him behind.

“Whatta stupid thing to say sorry for,” Atsumu tells him, munching on dango he managed to snag because it was the first stall by the entrance. “Festivals happen all the time anyway.”

Kiyoomi gazes at the bright lights below them. Crowded places like those always make him wonder how many demons here might be, blending among the humans. It’s always been worrying, never being able to truly tell if someone was actually a demon unless they acted suspiciously or had a distinct feature to them that was too _demon-like_ to brush off. Tonight feels peaceful though, or maybe it’s just because they’re so far from the scene that it doesn’t feel real in the first place. “This is my second time attending one.”

“I mean, can ya really say ya attended this one?” wonders Atsumu idly. “When was yer first?”

He doesn’t remember what age, but it was before Tsukasa died. He took Kiyoomi to a festival when it was his birthday. They ate food, watched the performances, and talked over the fireworks. Tsukasa told him that one day, he’d get him a haori just like the one he had and always wore. Kiyoomi said he didn’t want it even though he understood what Tsukasa gifting him something like that meant; the colors were symbolic of Tsukasa’s household, his family, and for Kiyoomi to be honored with something like that would mean he would be part of Tsukasa’s family, regardless of their social standings. Things like that had never meant much to Tsukasa though. He had never once looked at Kiyoomi and saw one of the many servants to the Iizuna household, but a friend instead. Family. 

(“I don’t deserve this,” Kiyoomi had told Tsukasa once the fireworks had ended.

“If I _order_ you to deserve it,” Tsukasa replied. “Would you stop saying you don't?”

Kiyoomi blinked. Then, he said, “Yeah, but you would never.”

Tsukasa smiled and said nothing. Kiyoomi wanted to kiss him, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to. Still, he had a feeling Tsukasa wouldn’t say no.

In the end, it didn’t matter, because Tsukasa died.)

It’s windy, but the haori protects him from the chilly weather. “A long, long time ago," says Kiyoomi. 

Atsumu hums. “‘Samu and I came from a poor family, so we didn’t get to see shit like this before we joined the Corps. Once we did, we tried goin’ to these as much as possible. I think this is the first one I’ve attended without him.”

“Can you really say you’ve attended this one though?”

“Haha.”

Kiyoomi smiles wryly. “I was poor too,” he tells Atsumu. “Sort of. I worked as a servant for this family known for their tea somewhere in Kai Province before becoming a member of the Corps.” 

“Thought Motoya was yer cousin.”

“He said his mom was my dad’s sister, but I never knew my parents, so I wouldn’t actually know. I didn’t meet him until I joined anyway, and it doesn’t really matter whether he really is or isn’t,” Kiyoomi admits. “The head maid of the Iizuna Clan found me at their doorstep and asked to take me in, and then I lived with them until every member of the household was massacred by one of their own because he turned into a demon.”

Atsumu takes out a kiseru from the sleeve of his kimono and lights it up. “That’s depression’ to hear.”

“Not as much as your story.”

“Oh, for sure,” Atsumu drawls, and the smoke curls as it escapes his lips. “Cannibalism is the trump card to winnin’ all those pity points.”

Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose. “Demons truly are disgustin’.”

“They weren’t demons.”

“They might as well have been,” Kiyoomi says. He feels tired all of a sudden; his legs almost like they’re on the verge of collapsing and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the fight he just had hours earlier or from general exhaustion. 

Atsumu raises an eyebrow when he sees Kiyoomi sit on the grass. “Ain’tcha scared of gettin’ dirty?”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “I’m not actually a clean freak, you know.” He pulls his knees and barely manages to suppress a hiss when doing so somehow hits his wound. “Fuck.”

“Lemme see.” 

“What is there to see?” Kiyoomi asks, but Atsumu is already hovering on top of him, trapping Kiyoomi between his knees as he tugs at his yukata to peak at his bandages. “It didn’t reopen.”

“I know it didn’t," Atsumu replies, matter-of-fact. "Komo-kun would kill me if I ever fucked up how to stitch wounds when he’s the one who taught me how.” 

Kiyoomi stares at him, trying to read Atsumu as he fixes his yukata. He smoothens the creases on Kiyoomi’s haori. The touch is gentle, the kind of gesture Kiyoomi would only expect from _himself._ “You just want an excuse to touch me.”

Atsumu doesn’t answer, just meets his gaze. Kiyoomi is surprised by the intensity in his eyes. “Why do ya hate demons so much?”

Kiyoomi says nothing for a while. Then he leans back, lying down back on the grass. It tickles his cheeks, and Atsumu’s weight still rests on top of him. It doesn’t really bother Kiyoomi that much. “Does every reason for doing things need a sob story to support it?”

“S’ppose not.” Atsumu allows, and he doesn’t sound offended. “Are ya gonna tell me anyway?”

At this, Kiyoomi lifts his head, turning to Atsumu. The latter tilts his head, giving him a considerate look as he inhales from the kiseru once more. Tsukasa’s mother had one, but Tsukasa himself swore he’d never do it. Kiyoomi never understood the appeal, even after they had all died, but he did it habitually whenever he saw Motoya and he had his own out.

Kiyoomi lifts the upper half of his body, shortening the distance between them. “No.” 

The answer doesn’t offend Atsumu. All he does is grin and say nothing else. It could be because of the familiarity of the moment that he hadn't let himself indulge in for a while, or it could just be because Atsumu is pressed this close to him and how it just feels _right_ to do it, but Kiyoomi is suddenly hit with the urge to kiss Atsumu. He doesn’t think about whether he’s allowed to or not.

Kiyoomi has learned from long ago that these are not moments he should approach with hesitation, because taking too long might lead to being too late. 

“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu suddenly says, and it’s the first time Atsumu has ever called him by his actual name. “Whatcha doin’?”

Kiyoomi freezes, eyes blown wide. “Nothing,” he eventually says, realizing what he was about to do. He pulls back, widening the gap between them. “It’s nothing.”

“‘S okay,” Atsumu says, moving away to stand up. Kiyoomi can’t help but watch him helplessly, because despite Atsumu’s words, Kiyoomi knew the look in his eyes: the kind that said that he knew exactly what Kiyoomi was going to do. Atsumu’s gaze drifts, expression pensive even though Kiyoomi can’t begin to parse what he’s thinking about. “The fireworks are ‘bout to start.”

He doesn’t look back at Kiyoomi. It’s not that fact that causes the feeling of disappointment to settle in Kiyoomi’s stomach, but the thought of Atsumu’s bright and intense eyes refuses to leave his mind. 

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi agrees quietly. He glances down and smoothens his haori because Atsumu didn’t actually do it properly. 

* * *

**[08]**

Something prickles at the back of Kiyoomi’s neck, the sensation that there’s another presence nearby that’s familiar and something to be wary of, even if he doesn’t feel like it’s hostile. 

Kiyoomi subtly rests his hand on the hilt of his sword as he trails after Atsumu, who hums to himself a mindless tune as he takes the lead even though he doesn’t actually know where they’re going. It’s late at night, so the streets of the town are mostly empty and there’s minimal demon activity that goes on around this area. Hyogo, in general, is a quiet place. It’s Atsumu’s hometown. Though Atsumu isn’t harmful around humans, Kiyoomi can let him go around without much worry when it’s like this. 

The presence is still there, but about twenty meters away from them. It’s probably watching them, Kiyoomi assumes. Then, abruptly, it vanishes. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t waste a single second to draw his sword and swing back, stopping midway only because there’s a hand that gently presses against the blade, preventing Kiyoomi from carrying out the attack completely. 

But the stranger doesn’t seem to care about him. “Atsumu,” he starts, gaze trained past Kiyoomi and to Atsumu instead. Atsumu only stops walking and turns around to see the commotion. 

Kiyoomi narrows his eyes, shifting his posture slightly as if to hide Atsumu behind him. There’s nothing about the stranger that’s familiar—from the sharp golden eyes to the gray hair with tinges of black at the ends, but the cat-like eyes and the way his palm bleeds and smokes because of Kiyoomi’s blade is a dead giveaway to what he is. “Who are you?”

The demon tilts his head, calm and collected despite the situation. Kiyoomi knows that he isn’t facing any normal demon. Someone enough to rival an Upper Moon, maybe. He suppresses a shiver, because he hasn’t had to deal with any demon that strong since that night a year ago. 

“No need to be so tense,” the demon says, lowering his bleeding hand and letting it recover. He doesn’t flinch even when Kiyoomi maneuvers his sword so that the blade practically kisses the side of his throat. “I ain’t here to fight.”

“How do you know Atsumu?”

The stranger blinks slowly. “My name is Kita.”

Kiyoomi lowers his blade, recognizing the name. Kita Shinsuke. He doesn’t personally know him, but he remembers what Atsumu had said about him. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“So is he.” He nods at Atsumu. The latter stares at Kita with large, curious eyes. There’s no flicker of recognition in them, but Kiyoomi’s gut tells him that this man—Kita—isn’t lying about who he is. “This is my territory, which is why there ain't any demons here, but we should still go someplace private. Come.”

Kita takes them far from town, uphill and deep within a forest—always a forest, because it’s so easy to stay hidden when nature protects you—Kiyoomi vaguely recalls to have supposedly terrifying rumors about them. Eventually, they reach a small house right underneath a cliffside, which he guesses to be Kita’s abode. 

A fire has already been lit and it seems to have been burning for a while. The heat is welcoming compared to the bitter cold, but Atsumu hesitates by the threshold before entering, and Kiyoomi thinks it's not necessarily about his apprehension of the unfamiliar place but because he prefers the chilly weather a lot more. 

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi calls out, and Atsumu gives him a look that could be read as slightly annoyed before stepping inside, though he doesn’t seem to want to venture in any further. Kiyoomi sighs and lets him be. 

Watching Atsumu causes something in Kita’s expression to soften, and it’s a look Kiyoomi recognizes even though the memory is old. It’s the kind of look he used to always see on Tsukasa’s face whenever he looked at him. It’s not the kind of expression anyone can ever lie about. 

“He’s grown,” Kita comments, and despite being a demon, he sounds so human. He doesn’t close the door and sits by the fire. Kiyoomi follows, settling across him. “There used to be a ton of baby fat on his cheeks back when we were younger.”

Atsumu and Kita were young when they met, if Kiyoomi remembers correctly, and they were young when Kita supposedly died, but he looks to be around their age—in his twenties and flourishing with youthful and handsome features. Atsumu can alter his physical characteristics and form at will though, reverting into a smaller, child-like figure whenever he wants to sleep and back to his usual self when he’s awake at night, so it’s not like Kita’s current state can’t be unexplained if he was killed at an early age. 

“Did Atsumu know?” Kiyoomi questions. 

Kita shakes his head. “The demon dragged my body away, so I think they thought I got eaten,” he explains. “Right after, a slayer came and then dealt with the demon, but by then I was already turned. Thought he was gonna kill me, but instead he dropped me off here, told me to live and eat as I wanted to but in secret, and I never saw him again. Haven’t left Hyogo since.”

Kiyoomi lets Kita’s explanation sink in. Atsumu hasn’t been to Hyogo ever since Kita’s supposed death, so it makes sense. To hear that a slayer hadn’t only spared Kita, but had taken him somewhere safe though— “Who was the one who saved you?”

“Kuroo Tetsurou, I think was his name.” 

It’s the last name Kiyoomi expects to hear, but he doesn’t find himself surprised by the answer. Kuroo came from the clan that headed the Demon Slayer Corps, but he was the only member of that family who had a body strong enough to fight and join the rest of the ranks. He hadn’t been a Hashira due to his heritage, but he was just as strong as one, and Kiyoomi knew that he was a prodigy, spending most of his childhood and teenage years already dealing with demons before accepting his role as the head. 

No one knew why he stopped slaying at an early age when the previous head was still capable of leading them even though he talked about wanting Kuroo to take over already. When Wakatoshi asked, all Kuroo had said was, “The world became complicated, and I want it to be much simpler.” 

It was a clear cut intention, the way all the Hashira who served under him understood: to make the world simpler meant to eradicate demons, because they were the anomaly that had abruptly come into existence and made everything painful and difficult. Still, Kuroo’s lax behaviour towards the laws that were created to bring those beliefs to life had always puzzled them, because he treated the rules loosely when he was meant to be the one person who would be strict about implementing and enforcing them. For a while, Kiyoomi thought it was just a result of laziness or thinly veiled incompetence. 

Now, when Kiyoomi looks at Kita, a product of Kuroo’s indifference to the law, a result of Kuroo going against the doctrines his own clan established and firmly believed in following, he wonders if the reason Kuroo quit was because he was conflicted between being merciful in death or being merciful in life, struck by the realization that humanity is something that might just transcend physicality. It's something Kiyoomi himself has been learning recently, ever since Asumu became a demon. 

From the corner of Kiyoomi’s vision, he catches Atsumu loitering by the door, beaming at the moon. Back when Atsumu was human and they would share nights at the Estate, Atsumu would always wander to the window to gaze at the night sky. Despite the time that has passed, it seems easy to fall back into that time and assumption that things haven’t truly changed. In their travels, Kiyoomi will sometimes imagine catching Atsumu admiring a view that he would’ve loved just as much if he were still human, turn to Kiyoomi, and say, _“Hey, Omi-kun. When we run away, let’s go back here again.”_

“How long has it been since he turned?” asks Kita, pulling Kiyoomi away from his musings. 

“A year.”

Kita hums as he watches Atsumu. “He’s not like most demons,” he eventually states. “He probably hasn’t eaten once.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t grace Kita with an answer because Kita isn’t really asking. He watches the gray-haired man stand and make his way to the back of the house, where the fire’s light doesn’t reach. “This cliffside is known for suicides,” Kita tells Kiyoomi. “Humans jump off and their bodies fall in this area. It happens often enough, surprisingly. It’s a free feedin’ ground, so I used to think it was strange more demons haven’t come here ‘till I realized that I’ve been ‘round here long enough for this place to be marked as my turf.”

The knowledge that Kita isn’t actively killing humans reassures Kiyoomi even though he’s still eating them, regardless as to the fact that they’re carcasses at this point. He watches Kita emerge from the darkness with something wet and bloody in his hands, and it takes Kiyoomi a second to recognize it as flesh. He’s been a slayer for years and has been a firsthand witness to scenes of gore to not get sickened at the sight, but it doesn’t stop the fact that he feels a strange, uncomfortable coil in his stomach. He isn’t sure if it has anything to do with the sharp glint in Kita’s eyes, a reminder that in the end, he is still a demon. 

“Sorry.” Kita apologizes when he notices Kiyoomi’s expression. 

Kiyoomi says nothing to that. “Are you going to eat in front of me?”

“This is for Atsumu.” At this, Kiyoomi stills. Despite hearing his name, Atsumu doesn’t look back at them, as if he hasn’t noticed anything amiss. “If he eats it, he’ll regain a bit of his personality left. When he was still human.”

“Atsumu is the same person he always was.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Kita replies plainly. “But whatever he’s been doin' to keep himself alive, it can only get him so far.” Sleep, Kiyoomi immediately thinks. He’s concluded long ago that the only reason Atsumu could get away with not needing flesh to remain as strong as he is now and survive despite being a demon is because he makes up for it by remaining unconscious for long periods of time. The longest one had been two months. When that happened, Kiyoomi almost drove himself insane with worry. “There's a theory that it's flesh that lets demons regain their conscience; that's why the first thing newly turned ones havta do is eat. At least this way, you'll get to hear him talk.” 

Kiyoomi wonders if it’s that obvious, the fact that he misses the sound of Atsumu’s voice. It’s odd to be the one who talks most in their relationship, even if he’s never been as quiet as he appears to be. Atsumu still makes the same animated expression as he did back when he was human, but he isn’t capable of slipping in something snarky during the conversation or complaining when things don't go his way. He isn’t capable of confusing Kiyoomi with all his slang and provincial dialect and taking some kind of strange pleasure in leaving the other in the dark, and he isn’t capable of reassuring Kiyoomi with his words like he always did. He can’t even say Kiyoomi’s name.

 _Omi-kun._ _Kiyoomi_. _I love ya too_. Nothing. Kiyoomi hears nothing. He is afraid to hear nothing forever. 

But even if humanity may be something that not only humans can become, Kiyoomi knows that Atsumu would never be able to face himself and see a person if he ate flesh— just like his parents, just like a demon. He would never be able to face Kiyoomi either, for letting him do it. 

_I don’t wanna lose what makes me human._ Atsumu told Kiyoomi. And Kiyoomi understands, because he doesn’t want to lose what makes Atsumu _Atsumu_. 

“I can’t let him,” is all Kiyoomi says, offering no explanation. 

Kita lowers his hand, not looking surprised at all. 

They let the fire crackle and dissipate before walking out of the house to bask in the moonlight because Atsumu is restless and Kiyoomi feels suffocated in the confined space. There’s a small clearing they find themselves in, and as they lay on the grass, Atsumu rests his head on Kiyoomi’s lap. Kiyoomi combs through his hair as Kita sits beside him, petting a fox that wanders towards him like she knows him. 

“Don’t think ya can be on the run forever if ya left yer organization,” Kita tells him. “Ya can’t do what I did since yer still human ‘cause ya need to interact with them— _people_. You’ve been travelin’ ‘round tryna find a cure, right? But ya gotta consider what you’ll do if ya can’t find one and Atsumu will be a demon forever.” 

Kita doesn’t mention the possibility of killing Atsumu if he’d be a demon forever, because even without saying, it’s not an option even worth sparing a second for.

“I know," replies Kiyoomi lowly. "I’m still going to try though.”

A hum. “They say that if ya wanna restore the memory of a demon who has forgotten himself, ya gotta take him someplace special, somethin’ that reminds him of who he once was.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do ya think it’ll be hard, tryna figure out what to do from here?” 

Kiyoomi stops playing with Atsumu’s hair. Atsumu doesn’t seem to mind, because he grabs Kiyoomi’s hand to start mindlessly playing with his fingers. Kiyoomi pinches him on the cheek for that. Atsumu sticks his tongue out at him. “No,” he admits. “But it feels like giving up.” 

“No,” Kita says, his tone firm. “It’s just bein’ realistic. It’s just thinkin’ ‘bout the future. Yers and Atsumu’s. In whatever way it’ll be.”

He has a point. And Kiyoomi does have an inkling on what to do next, because there’s only ever been one road laid ahead of him, and it’s starting to become a bit clearer than it was before.

It won’t be that bad, he thinks, so long as Atsumu is by his side. 

“It was nice meeting you, Kita-san,” Kiyoomi tells him. 

“It’ll be the last,” Kita says, sounding certain. “Can ya tell me one thing though?”

“What?”

“Where’s Osamu?”

Kiyoomi pauses. There's a trace of vulnerability in Kita's voice, but Kiyoomi can't beat around the push, and he doesn't think Kita would want him to. 

“Dead,” he answers. “He became a demon, but he wasn’t as lucky as you.”

“I see.” Kita closes his eyes. He doesn't sound that shocked. “I don’t think it’s luck.”

“It’s not,” agrees Kiyoomi after a beat. 

“I wish I could tell Atsumu that I’m sorry,” Kita admits.

"Why?"

“Because he deserves more than this."

Kiyoomi says nothing to this.

"But,” Kita glances at him, giving him a knowing look. “It ain't gonna be all bad, ‘cause at least he has ya.”

Kiyoomi still says nothing. Kita seems okay with the lack of reply though, and they continue to gaze out at the moon. He departs with Atsumu tucked in the basket by sunrise, and never sees Kita again. 

* * *

**[04]**

It had been a user of the Breath of the Sound who had found Kiyoomi in the aftermath of the massacre of the Iizuna Clan, but the one who dealt with the demon was none other than Kiyoomi himself. Though he hadn’t been injured, she took one look at his bloodied state, the way he clung onto a bright yellow and green haori that was damp but blood-free, the peculiar way he held a wakizashi, and asked, “Who was the demon?”

Kiyoomi did not look at her. The only thing he cared about was the haori he had scrubbed clean so roughly by the pond of the garden to the point that the lotuses there turned crimson and his hands grew red and raw. “Tsukasa-san.”

She did not know who that was. Kiyoomi did not explain. Still, she must’ve understood that it was someone important to Kiyoomi, so she said, “You were strong.”

 _No,_ he wanted to say, because she didn’t actually know what happened. _I was useless._

He said nothing instead, and she whisked him away to the Flower Estate, where she had the workers there patch him up before she sat by his bedside. Right before the sun rose, she led him to the garden of the main house and he thought it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen because it reminded him so much of one back at the mansion of his patrons. There, she asked him if he wanted to join the Corps.

Even then, less than twenty-four hours since his loss, he stared at her and remembered what he thought to himself as he washed the blood off Tsukasa’s haori: that there was nothing else he could do. 

It’s midday when Kiyoomi finally decides to leave the Thunder Estate, having holed himself up in his room until noon has passed. Hoshiumi would normally come knocking by breakfast on most days, but he knows that today no one lingered on the other side of the door. They’ve learned that days like these are different from the rest, and they’ve always respected him enough to leave him to his own devices when he truly wanted it. 

When Kiyoomi steps out, he looks at the sky and can’t tell whether today is a good day or not. There are footsteps that his ears suddenly catch, growing louder with each second as they move closer to him. 

He glances to his side. Atsumu grins at him and teases, “Sunbathin’?”

Kiyoomi says nothing at first. The last time they saw one another was two weeks ago over the festival, and while Kiyoomi has completely healed since then, Atsumu now looks a little worse for wear, bandages wrapped around his forehead and neck and a tiny split in his lip. He looks both handsome and terrible at the same time. It really can’t be anything but from the hands of a demon, but if it was something really bad, then Kiyoomi would’ve been alerted about it because the organization wants all the high-ranked members to be the first to stay informed and updated about any details of the increasing cases of demons growing stronger.

It’s not necessarily because it’s _Atsumu_ in particular, though Motoya only likes updating him about the blonde when he asks. 

“Did you lose?” Kiyoomi asks Atsumu, giving him a visible once-over.

“Sunarin was just bein’ difficult,” is all Atsumu offers for an answer. “Headin’ out for a mission?”

“No.”

“Do ya have anythin’ planned for today?”

He does, technically, but— “Why?”

Atsumu shrugs. “Let’s go somewhere.”

Kiyoomi gives him a flat look. “Not in that state, you will.” Their conversation gives him a sense of deja vu, like this has happened before, even if it isn’t the exact same as before. Kiyoomi doesn’t actually remember much from the last time they saw each other but fragments of conversations and actions, and even then, he doesn’t think they’re the most pleasant ones that are worth recalling. 

“I don’t mean someplace far, y'know.” Atsumu rolls his eyes. “It’ll be worth it.”

Kiyoomi is beginning to think that he’s somewhat of a pushover around Atsumu, because he doesn’t put up a fight. 

It’s the Flower Estate that Atsumu takes him to, which Kiyoomi would find ironic because he was planning on going there anywhere if not for the fact that his confusion was what prevailed in his mind. It only grows from there as they walk to the main house only to not actually enter, but instead slip by the side to head to the back where a large garden lies. There’s nothing new about the scene, but what does catch Kiyoomi off guard is the blanket spread out right in front of the pond and a small basket right at the middle.

“What?” Atsumu says, catching the look on Kiyoomi’s face. “Ain’t a nice enough place for ya for a date?”

“A date.” Kiyoomi repeats as he watches Atsumu sit down beside the basket. 

He taps on the empty space beside him. “Whatcha waitin’ for?”

After a beat, Kiyoomi sits. Atsumu opens the flap of the basket and takes out onigiri, cups, and a bottle. “I didn’t know what yer favorite food was,” Atsumu explains. “But ya can never go wrong with onigiri, right?”

The onigiri doesn’t look that appetizing because it looks somewhat disformed, but the effort is clearly there, so Kiyoomi takes it anyway. It doesn’t taste bad, so he doesn’t mind eating it. For drinks, Kiyoomi almost expects sake, but Atsumu reveals that it’s tea instead. It’s lukewarm on his tongue, and he can’t help but pull a face.

Atsumu laughs. “No good, huh.” He doesn’t sound that hurt about it though. He takes a bite off his own onigiri. “I ain't the best at this crap, actually. Cookin' and stuff. That was more of ‘Samu’s thing, so I’m surprised this is edible enough.”

“Me too.” 

Atsumu gives him a flat look, but there’s a smile dancing on his lips anyway. “Ya think ya can do better than me?”

Kiyoomi shrugs. “Maybe.” 

This makes Atsumu laugh. He gazes out to the pond. “Dunno why more people don’t come ‘round here,” he admits. “It’s beautiful.”

It is. It’s a wide expanse of space, which is surprising given that most of the lot seems to be taken up by the main house, but Kiyoomi thinks it adds to the intimacy of it— that the garden is a place that people will only find if they choose to acknowledge that the Flower Estate as a resting place is more than just healing in confines of beds and being nursed to health by caretakers. Kiyoomi’s favorite part about the garden, more than the greenery and the serenity, is the pond, so he likes that it’s where Atsumu chose to set their picnic up. 

Their picnic. Their date. Their first date. Kiyoomi can’t help but remember the last time they saw one another and if that has anything to do with this. 

The lotuses on the pond drift without purpose. They’ve always been white, but Kiyoomi is still learning to see them as anything but tinted red instead. “Motoya told me there’s a saying about the flowers here. Whenever a member of the Corps loses someone because they turn into a demon, they reincarnate into these to make up for the fact that there’s no body.”

“Huh.” Atsumu pauses, letting the words sink in. “Don’t think ‘Samu would ever willingly become a flower though.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t think Tsukasa would ever want to be reincarnated as a flower either. But he still visits this place every time every year anyway, just because there hadn’t been a body he could bury, a grave where he could grieve. It’s not so bad when he remembers that the Iizuna main house had a body of water similar to this anyway, and lotuses were something always appreciated by the fanciest of folks. Everywhere he goes, there's always something that connects to a memory he has of his past, of Tsukasa. 

“D’ya know why I defended ‘Samu even when he turned into a demon?” Atsumu suddenly asks. 

“It’s because he was your brother.”

Atsumu shakes his head. “It’s ‘cause he was human. For just a moment, he was.” He bows his head and pulling his legs close to his chest, looking lost in thought. “I knew, ‘cause the moment he realized what happened to him, he asked me to kill him before he did somethin’ stupid like try to eat me. But he was still in his right mind even though he was hungry, so I thought he had hope, and I refused. Then Sunarin came and said he didn’t, and then we fought, but ‘Samu had already lost it by then."

"Shit," Kiyoomi says without thinking. 

Atsumu licks his lips absentmindedly. "So he knew—we _both_ knew. When yer a demon, yer humanity’s gone ‘cause yer gonna wanna eat 'nother human, but I didn’t wanna accept it. He promised me he’d be nothin’ like our parents, and then that happened to him. And I took too long to decide, so Sunarin had to do it, and I think that just worsened things for ‘Samu. Doesn’t that make me such a useless brother?”

Despite his words, despite the question, he doesn't sound desperate and agonized. It's just curiosity, plain and simple and miserable. It feels like he’s in that strange stage between moving on and dwelling in his misery, and Kiyoomi is surprised to know that it’s a feeling he still understands despite the years that have passed. The guilt is still raw, the powerlessness is suffocating. 

Kiyoomi knows what it’s like to feel— _be_ —useless. He used to think he was a useless servant because Tsukasa treated him more like an equal rather than someone below him, because Tsukasa never wanted him to do what was supposed to be his job and Kiyoomi was okay with it. Tsukasa would always tell him otherwise and Kiyoomi always had to believe him when he said stuff like that not because he was _above_ him in social status, but because Tsukasa was the kind of person who seemed like he could accomplish anything if he just tried hard enough. 

Kiyoomi was no Tsukasa though, nor did he want to be. “Who knows,” he wonders. “The only person who could tell you that is Osamu.” Atsumu lets out an exhale. “And in the end, we just learn to live with our uselessness.”

That elicits a dry laugh from Atsumu. “Yer right,” he says, though his head is still ducked between his legs. “But I don’t think I wanna live like this forever.”

The sight pulls Kiyoomi to say something. What exactly, he doesn’t know. But maybe it doesn’t matter. 

“One day,” he begins. “When all this is over, I want to move to a far place and open a tea shop beside a pond just like this, right where lotuses grow. I think, maybe by then, I won’t feel so helpless anymore.”

Atsumu turns to him. The look in his eyes is suddenly no longer foggy. “A tea shop, huh," He muses. "‘Cause of yer family?” 

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says. “And because I want to show you how tea is really done.”

“I dunno if I could ever see myself settle down,” confesses Atsumu, a small smile on his face. “I never thought about havin’ a future like that. But I wouldn’t mind helpin’ out, if you’d let me.”

The words seem to change something in him, because the sorrow washes away and his expression looks kinder, slightly more cheerful as he looks at Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi has always looked at Atsumu and recognized that he was the same type of handsome as Tsukasa, but they were not the same. Tsukasa was unwavering and happy, and Atsumu, right now, looked a little bit broken but bright at the same time. 

The difference doesn’t unnerve Kiyoomi. It just makes him realize that he likes Atsumu. It just makes him realize that he’s scared to lose him the same way he lost Tsukasa. 

When Tsukasa turned into a demon, he told Kiyoomi to kill him. Kiyoomi said no because he thought Tsukasa could just _overcome_ it because he was _Tsukasa_. Then he slaughtered his entire family and begged Kiyoomi to end him again before he ended up killing him too. The only reason Kiyoomi was able to was because Tsukasa, face marred in horror and cold-hearted sternness laced in his voice created all to hide his anguish, the fact that he didn't want this any more than Kiyoomi did even though it _had_ to be done, said, _“Kiyoomi, this is an order. There is no saving me.”_

It was the first and last time Tsukasa had made him do something. In the aftermath of it all, Kiyoomi had sat by the pond, washed Tsukasa’s haori clean, and told himself that demons had no salvation, because demons themselves acknowledged that they had no hope. 

But as he looks at Atsumu and entertain the possibility—the fear that is more likely to come true than either of them would like to admit—he wonders if those beliefs are as unshaking as they’re meant to be. He thinks of Tsukasa and he thinks of Osamu and he thinks about exceptions and how there are supposed to be none, but how they want there to be anyway. He wonders if he’ll ever go against his principles for the sake of something—someone—worth that risk. He wonders if maybe, a time will come when it’s a decision that he wouldn’t come to regret.

He wonders what it means to be human. He wonders if he’ll ever find the answer to it. 

(“So, Omi-kun,” Atsumu will later ask. “How was the first date?”

 _Ordinary_. Kiyoomi could have said. _Depressing. Enlightening. Intimate._

What Kiyoomi tells him instead is this: “The lotuses were beautiful.”

Finally, Atsumu pulls him into a kiss.)

* * *

**[09]**

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” Motoya starts, his tone dry. “But that would mean saying I never knew the kind of person you were. _Are._ ”

“Bold of you to still use present tense, given the situation,” Kiyoomi tell him. “Here’s your tea, by the way.”

Motoya accepts it with a quiet thanks. He’s the only customer at the moment, sitting politely on the bench under an umbrella shade larger than the typical ones. If Motoya notices the abnormality of the size, he doesn’t comment on it, and instead sips the tea from the cup. “A situation which I myself don’t completely understand, you know,” Motoya tells him. “Mind clarifying things for me, Kiyoomi?”

Despite the easy casualness between them that hasn’t completely eroded over time, Motoya has changed. There’s a more solemn look to him. There’s a hint of gravity in his tone. He looks older and a bit more worn out. Kiyoomi wonders if the changes of time and experience are evident in him as well. 

“I think you know what happened,” he simply replies. 

Motoya’s eyes briefly flicker to the unnaturally dark teahouse. Kiyoomi knows that by the corner, visible only by Motoya’s angle of sight, is a notable tuft of blonde hair that can only belong to one man. “You disappeared after the Itachiyama Forest incident two and a half years ago with no one having any means to reach you,” Motoya inputs. “Atsumu-san as well.”

“I know.”

“Most of us assumed you two were dead, but there weren’t any corpses to prove the theory. Some of the Hashira claimed you defected,” Motoya explains. “Kageyama-san, Hoshiumi-san, and Oikawa-san.”

“I take it that Kuroo-san didn’t like those answers.”

Motoya shrugs. “He wasn’t angry, but he did say that if you ever defected, it would be to do this, and I knew it too.” He gestures to the tea shop. “Still, leaving the Corps without a proper process is seen as betrayal that’s punishable by death. Kuroo-san wasn’t proactive about the hunt for you two though. The other Hashira let it slide because demon activity has been increasing and took priority, but you don’t know how much of a hassle it was, finding people to fill in for your positions." Motoya huffs. "It’s one thing to lose a Hashira, it’s another to lose two.”

Kiyoomi watches him take another sip of his tea. The sleeve of his black uniform gets slightly pulled back from the action, and Kiyoomi narrows in on the distinct mark engraved on Motoya’s wrist, an exact replica of the one that Kiyoomi and Atsumu themselves have. “Congratulations on your promotion, Flower Hashira.”

Motoya makes a face at the title as he sets down the cup on his lap. After a beat of silence, he says, “He’s not dead, is he.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you would’ve returned if he was,” Motoya supplies. “But if he’s alive, then he wouldn’t agree to running away like this either, even for the price of the normalcy you always wanted.”

“That’s a stretch,” Kiyoomi says, though Motoya isn’t really wrong. “It’s just something I someday wanted.”

Motoya stares at him. “He’s a demon, isn’t he,” he says to Kiyoomi. “The Upper Moon you defeated back at Itachiyama Forest years ago turned him.”

It’s not a question. “Well, he hates the sun now,” replies Kiyoomi. “But he doesn’t eat humans.”

“What does he eat then?”

Kiyoomi shrugs. “Nothing. He mostly sleeps.”

“That sounds too convenient for me to believe.” Motoya narrows his eyes. “You can’t actually, seriously believe that, right? _You_ , of all people?”

Kiyoomi understands where Motoya is coming from, but— “It’s the truth.” Motoya’s posture remains doubtful though. Kiyoomi sighs, feeling weary. “I’ve violated more rules than just defecting, Motoya. Is that why you’re here?”

At the implication, Motoya bristles. “You know I don’t care about that sort of thing. The Corps doesn’t know I’m here. I just happened to hear a rumor about a handsome young man manning a tea shop on the borders of Osaka right beside a nice little creek,” he explains. He leans back. “Don’t worry so much, Kiyoomi. Even if I don’t trust what you say, and even if I think you’re acting weird, I still trust that you can handle the situation if the need arises, and for the past two and a half years, it clearly hasn’t.” 

“I wasn’t worried.”

Motoya gives him an unimpressed look. “Then let go of your wakizashi.”

Kiyoomi lets go of the short sword tucked in the crease of his kimono. Motoya shakes his head. 

“You’ve mellowed down, Kiyoomi.” 

It’s not a statement Kiyoomi can bother taking offense to. “Things changed.”

“I know,” Motoya admits, sounding reclutant about it. “How is he anyway, besides sleeping most of the time?”

“I thought you said you didn’t believe me,” Kiyoomi points out. Motoya simply blinks. “I don’t think he can think too deeply about things anymore. It’s mostly just emotion and instinct now. He can’t speak, but he understands me when I talk and listen.”

“Brain damage?”

Kiyoomi ignores him. “A result of not consuming any human blood or flesh. It supposedly grants demons the awareness they once had as humans. That’s why they’re always hungry when they’re newly turned.”

“Is he still moody?”

“Always.”

“A match made in heaven, I say.” Kiyoomi sits down on the threshold of the opened entrance to the tea shop, reaching for Atsumu, who is curled up in a ball right behind the door slide to the side, fast asleep. Motoya stares. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you’re content.”

“Hm,” Kiyoomi hums. “Some travelers who stop by tell me stuff. There are rumors about a cure—the kind that can turn demons back into humans. It’s worth a shot.”

“Probably.” Motoya considers. “Maybe it’ll help if you can manage to jog his memory.” 

_They say that if ya wanna restore the memory of a demon who has forgotten himself, ya gotta take him someplace special, somethin’ that reminds him of who he once was._ “Someone told me something like that once.” 

“It’s still a near-impossible thing to accomplish though. Do you have any plans?”

“Maybe,” Kiyoomi replies vaguely. “I have time to work everything out, at least. It’s not like I have missions to prioritize.”

“How lucky of you,” Motoya groans, not even bothering to hide his jealousy. It makes Kiyoomi crack a smile, hit with the realization that he misses Motoya. The latter stands up, setting down the now-finished cup on the bench. “I’ll be going then. Give my regards to Atsumu-san, okay? I hope you two have a good life and things work out. Somehow.”

“Yeah,” he says, touched by the sincerity of Motoya’s words even though they should be expected, because it’s Motoya, of all people. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Hope that I’m the only one you’ll be seeing,” is all he says, beginning to walk off, but then Kiyoomi remembers something. 

“Motoya,” Kiyoomi calls out. “You’re mistaken. 

Motoya stops and turns back to Kiyoomi, confusion etched on his face. “About what?”

“It’s not a creek that we’re beside, but a pond.”

“What makes you say that?”

“There are lotuses.”

Motoya stares at him, as if trying to read Kiyoomi, but then he shakes his head, looking simultaneously amused and exasperated. “You know that’s not a reference I’ll understand, Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi smiles. "Maybe."

Motoya leaves as quickly as he came. Kiyoomi watches until he disappears into the road for good before turning to Atsumu. “Atsumu,” he says. “One day, when all this is fixed, let’s go on a date and see the lotuses again.” 

Atsumu doesn’t even stir, but it’s okay. Kiyoomi looks to the sky and thinks that it’s a good day today, the kind that reminds him that it’s not so bad to be alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. (I will get to it at some point in time.) Thank you for reading! I'm at [@inarizakicks](https://twitter.com/inarizakicks) on Twitter!


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